


Divine Interference

by mOther3



Category: The Stanley Parable
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Gen, M/M, Mute Stanley, The Narrator gets a body, Zending (The Stanley Parable), ship if you want it to be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2019-11-07 15:06:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17962856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mOther3/pseuds/mOther3
Summary: Stanley jumps and the Narrator takes action.





	1. Stanley Jumped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH 1 UPDATED AS OF 10/26/19 — Additional content has been added!

Stanley hadn’t believed the Narrator’s anguish about the jump at first. It had to be some kind of joke. Some ploy to get him to follow a twisted narrative. 

He trudged to the top of the platform a third time, legs shooting with pain on each step. It’d be gone in a moment. This was a dead end. He’d start anew, wrapped in the familiar comfort of the office, looking for any stone he’d left unturned (but he knew there were none left). 

“Stanley. Please don’t. I’ve asked you so many times.. don’t you want us to be happy?” 

Stanley had all but tuned the pleading out. Happiness was a foreign concept in their microcosm. The Narrator knew so. Why was now any different? 

“I made this ending for us to be happy. Don’t you understand that?”

Another flight of stairs. This was uncharacteristic for the Narrator. Going on about how this ending was special— _caring_ about Stanley’s happiness. 

The Narrator must have known there was no such thing as satisfaction here. This had to be some sort of plot of his. 

“Are you even listening to me! You’ll _die_ Stanley.” 

Stanley braced himself against the cold metal railings at the drop off and took in a shaky breath. Even if his death was meaningless in the face of a reset, Stanley still got nervous about killing himself. He’d done it before in the loading bay, and a few times when he’d gotten creative around the office, but the rush of fear never subsided. 

And the Narrator had never cared wether he lived or died until now. 

The pleads sounded like he on the brink of tears, and Stanley tuned in on the sound of his voice for a moment, pulling himself away from his own introspection. 

“ _Please_ Stanley. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please come down. I can’t lose you.”

Sorry was new. But it wouldn’t cut it. 

Stanley jumped. 

“No!!-“

The rush of air against his body was gone in an instant. Instead of hitting the floor, Stanley collided with something soft. Hands wrapped around his body as he crashed into the first sign of life he’d seen in ages and the two tumbled to the ground. 

Instead of coming from everywhere at once, the Narrator’s voice came from the body Stanley had fallen onto. 

“You moron! Stanley! Look what you made me do! I-“

The Narrator stopped, staring at Stanley in his arms, still holding in him a vise grip on reflex, coming down from the adrenaline rush. The tears Stanley had heard in The Narrator’s voice spilled out from his wide eyes as he stared, mesmerized. 

“I.. well that’s not quite...”

He let go of the baffled man in his arms and sat back. The Narrator was a few inches shorter than the other, pale skin draining of color as he looked himself over in wonder. Stanley stared, frozen in shock. This was the owner of the voice that had accompanied him through so many journeys in the office—a thin man with a mess of blonde hair and deep grey eyes, dressed business casual. The Narrator was... unremarkable. Like him. Stanley didn’t know what he’d expected but it wasn’t this. 

“... I’m not supposed to have a body.”

With that, the Narrator fell backwards, out cold. 

——

Stanley wasn’t sure what to do with himself at first. 

He stared down at the Narrator’s new, unconscious body and took him in. He wore the same button up as Stanley’s in a pleasant pastel pink color. It was neatly tucked into dapper, grey permanent press dress pants, now coated in dust from the ground. A jet black tie completed the look. Stanley wondered if the Narrator chose this outfit or it was just what his body came with. He’d briefly wondered the same about his own uniform (a much more monochromatic look) but had long since passed it over for more pressing matters in the Parable—like the sentient printer in the open office outside of his workspace. 

After the initial shock and confusion (replaced with a lingering sense of dread) subsided, Stanley cautiously moved the Narrator’s floppy body to a more comfortable position—he’d landed awkwardly after Stanley had fallen into him. He propped the Narrator onto his side, trying to move him only by the cuffs of his sleeves and pants.

It was dreadfully silent. 

Stanley didn’t like that. 

And yet, he found himself frozen in place, staring at the body before him, bewildered. If this was some crazy new ending, he hoped it would be over soon


	2. Stanley Nodded.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If one person could make his first human contact in years uncomfortable, it was the Narrator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CH 2 UPDATED AS OF 10/26/19 — Minor grammatical changes and additions.

Cold concrete, a breeze of stale office air, and repeated nudges from Stanley slowly rouse the Narrator’s aching body. 

Regaining his senses, the first thing the Narrator did was resume his telling of Stanley’s story. It was instinct for him to do so. He hardly realized the words were spilling out of his mouth as he struggled back to consciousness. “Gh... Stanley was so curious about this new body that he just couldn’t keep his hands to himself.” 

Wait a moment—Stanley was okay! He hadn’t died!

The Narrator grabbed Stanley’s hand before he could pull it away, making the poor man jump in surprise and utter a quiet yelp.

Fumbling in his new body, the Narrator sat up to get a good look at the other, still clasping his hand tight like Stanley might disappear if he were to let go. 

He’d never properly laid eyes on his companion. Sure, he’d interacted with the man countless times, but he was nebulous then. A presence both everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He was ingrained into the parable itself. 

Now was different. He had hands. He could feel. The Narrator reached out with his free hand and placed it hesitantly on Stanley’s cheek, moving ever so gently, as if he would break at the touch. This earned him a very concerned look, but nothing more. Stanley was timid, The Narrator knew this well. 

“Hello Stanley.”

Stanley finally met the other’s gaze for more than a second, cheeks heating up. If one person could make his first human contact in years uncomfortable, it was the Narrator. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” His voice was quieter like this. Less practiced—the Narrator hadn’t been off script in a long while. 

Stanley opened his mouth and closed it a few times, clearly in a bit of shock. His deep eyes darted across the new face, trying to get a read on what kind of ending this could possibly be. 

“You seem more troubled than I’d imagined you’d be if we were to meet.”

Stanley closed his mouth at the observation and mustered a shaky nod, slowly bringing a hand to take the Narrator off of his face. It was both reassuring and supremely uncomfortable to be able to touch the sole company he’d had in the office for what felt like all eternity. To know the Narrator was human (or something that looked like it) made Stanley feel a way he’d never felt before. 

“Why’s that? Are you afraid of little ol me?”

This made him freeze. Stopped with his own hand atop the Narrator’s that lingered on his cheek, Stanley made nervous eye contact with the man again. 

Stanley nodded. 

The narrator looked away, not wanting to disturb him further. He took his hand back to his side, followed by a long breath (breathing... strange and natural). 

“I see.”


	3. The Narrator Gasped.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I can _feel_ that. Your hand against the wall... It’s-“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i take forever to write my stuff but that’s not a surprise anymore lol
> 
> enjoy my bizarre not-quite-human narrator headcanons because I think about them a lot!!

“This body nonsense is very difficult to adjust to, Stanley. How do you put up with this all the time?”

The Narrator hadn’t shut up about how uncomfortable he was since they’d left the space room. They were on their way back to Stanley’s office per the Narrator’s request which had proven slightly more difficult than Stanley had guessed it to be, given that the poor man was just getting the hang of walking (a troublesome burden of coordination upon newly realized existence). He’d taken an uncomfortably close grip on Stanley’s left arm and stayed there for the duration of their haphazard journey. 

“Ah. The break room. Do you think we could? Oh-!” 

As soon as they approached the room (and the doors swung open by themselves), Stanley finally built up the nerve to push the Narrator off of him and watched as he stumbled into one of the cushioned chairs, steadying himself and turning towards Stanley with an accusatory glare. 

“That was very rude! I would at least have appreciated some advanced notice!” He was getting his wit and temper back. As much as Stanley was irritated by this part of the Narrator’s personality, he welcomed any familiarity in this situation, even if it was hostility from his companion. 

Stanley just looked away after the Narrator’s outburst, rubbing at his (probably bruised) arm meekly, and uttering a quiet sigh, trying to make the most of the calming aura of the break room. Things would go back to normal. They always had. Just him and the voice and the office like it should be. 

The Narrator offered a frustrated scoff in reply and sat. 

Silence. 

Silence that Stanley certainly wouldn’t break. 

He leaned against the wall, folding his arms and trying to play it off that this all wasn’t incredibly distressing to him. He was a man of routine! This was absolutely not that!

Though, he couldn’t ruminate long on it. As soon as he let his weight against the wall, the Narrator gasped suddenly and squirmed like something extremely unpleasant had just touched him. 

“Wh-!” He jumped out of the chair, landing on his shaky feet and falling unceremoniously to his hands and knees, “Gracious, Stanley! Did you do something?”

The Narrator got a deer-in-headlights stare in reply (he hadn’t seen that look since the first time Stanley had seen the control room! He would have relished the look if not for the extremely unusual circumstances) and Stanley shook his head no with the same uncertain look. The Narrator was always so sure of himself... why not now?

Stanley had known the Narrator as someone who at least _tried_ to play it cool when he wasn’t in control, so to see the man launch himself out of a chair for seemingly no reason was unbearably concerning. It was impossible to not let this show on his face and the way the Narrator looked at him as he awkwardly collected himself from the dusty carpet. 

He eventually made it to his feet, shakily brushing himself off and sat back down, looking around warily. Suspicious eyes meet Stanley’s and the Narrator spoke again. 

“Something pressed against me all of the sudden.. Is that something that happens to bodies?”

Now Stanley was no stranger to the way the office worked. His choices had consequences and he was keen to remember which caused what. And as soon as he’d leaned against the wall, the Narrator started this strange behavior.

He lifted a hand, still watching the other closely, and pressed it against the wall gingerly. The Narrator gasped. 

“I can _feel_ that. Your hand against the wall... It’s-“ 

His hand pressed further into the wall, fingertips brushing across the pleasantly yellow paint. The Narrator watched Stanley do so, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as the sensation of gentle pressure washed over his body. 

Stanley took his hand away from the wall slowly as The Narrator stammered, looking for words to describe the sensation. 

“It’s like a part of me. The wall... The office,” He took a shaky breath and a quiet draft pushed through a nearby vent, making Stanley jump. A few papers littering the break room floor lazily drifted upwards and floated back down as the Narrator exhaled.

“Without a body I could control the Parable.”

This was so much for Stanley to process. 

“But I think that’s changed now. I _am the Parable.”_


	4. Be happy, Stanley.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ”Something we’ve never seen is happening. It’s a new story! Be happy, Stanley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter bc school Be Like That. Enjoy some fluff with a side of narrator headcanons

Stanley was always easy to read. No matter what form the Narrator took, wherever he was, looking from any angle, he could read his companion like a book. 

Stanley never talked because his body did the talking for him. The Narrator understood Stanley’s language—how he held his body, where he looked, and what all the tiny twitches of expression on his face meant—and that was all they needed. 

Stanley was terrified and overwhelmed. He stares unblinking at the Narrator, trying to wrap his head around everything just unloaded onto him:

1\. The Narrator could feel through the office walls: concerning, interesting, ultimately just a curious side effect of the new body. 

2\. The Narrator was the Parable: significantly more worrying! What did that make the office? Alive? What did this mean for their routine? 

3\. The Narrator wasn’t entirely sure of what was happening: petrifying to Stanley’s very core. He had existed up until now under the blissfully unaware idea that the Narrator was in control. How he longed to go back to the rote exploration of a world he thought he knew. 

“-anley. Stanley.” He’s brought back to reality with a quiet snapping of the Narrator’s fingers and shakes his head in a futile attempt to dislodge the streams of anxious thoughts he was struggling to process. 

“It’s going to be okay.” 

The earnest tone in the Narrator’s voice cuts through Stanley’s train of thought and he meets the other’s eyes. The Narrator can see the nervous twitches and uneasiness in Stanley’s face plainly, unconsciously bringing a hand to Stanley’s shoulder to steady him. 

“wh-!” The poor thing jumps, uttering a faint exclamation at the unexpected contact. 

“Something we’ve never seen is happening. It’s a new story! Be happy, Stanley.” The command ripples through his body like surf over sand.

“Stanley took a deep breath.” 

And he did, taking in a methodical lungful of air and letting it out shakily.

“Very good. Stanley relaxed his shoulders.” 

His shoulders slowly lower, the ache of his tense posture starting to set in. 

“And he took the Narrator’s hand.” 

Stanley did so breathlessly. It was still so surreal to touch the Narrator after an eternity of separation. Another warm body to assure him that he wasn’t alone... 

“Let’s go to your office, Stanley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is prob going to be a bit, I’m going back thru the current chapters to iron out some inconsistencies and add a bit more here and there !! tsp crew if ur reading this please release ultra deluxe I’m Dying


	5. Stanley Shook His Head.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Of course I never told you! Who knows what you would have done that could’ve endangered the very fabric of the Parable’s being! Just a little bit ago you almost _killed_ yourself, Stanley!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> been going thru and fixing up old chapters as well as workin on this one so it’s pretty short again! please enjoy tho!

Familiar comfort of his dimly lit office welcomed Stanley as he pushed the door open. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Narrator shudder faintly as his hand pressed into the door. 

Once they were inside, he turned to watch the Narrator expectantly, waiting to know what else he should do. 

“Stanley. There is a set of two doors, only I don’t know which one you should go through this time.” 

A pang of fear shot across Stanley’s face momentarily. He was still acclimating to mutual uncertainty between himself and the Narrator. 

“Hush now. It’s not like you chose my door even half of the time anyways. Now, listen... One door, it goes back to the way things were. I go back to the way I was, we keep telling our story like how it has been.”

That sounded nice to Stanley. 

“The other door. I don’t know quite what happens, but I stay like this. I don’t know if this is even something sustainable for the Parable, but...” The Narrator trailed off, holding one of his own hands and examining it gingerly. “That’s the door _I_ want. I like seeing our world like this. It’s a new way to tell our old story.”

This was still new to him. The Narrator quietly requesting his desires to Stanley instead of bluntly forcing or bullying him into things made Stanley pause. 

He looked at the floor in contemplation, then back to the Narrator with uncertain eyes to ask why. 

“I don’t have a reason, Stanley. I just want to.”

“This new story... you’d need to do something for me in order to make it happen. I need you to press buttons, Stanley.”

That could be arranged. He looked up to The Narrator expectantly for more details. 

“The Parable... oh, how do I put this...” he trailed off, muttering to himself before motioning to Stanley’s idle computer, “You can use your computer to talk to it. Make it do what you want. It’s how I started things.” 

Stanley’s eyes went wide as he looked to his computer. He hadn’t paid any attention to it in ages and yet... Somehow it held unfathomable power, according to the Narrator. He turned back abruptly after processing this and crossed his hands against his chest. How nice it would’ve been to know! 

“Of course I never told you! Who knows what you would have done that could’ve endangered the very fabric of the Parable’s being! Just a little bit ago you almost _killed_ yourself, Stanley!”

Stanley recoiled back instantly, the sliver of confidence he’d gotten back shattered under the weight of the Narrator’s words. 

“Stanley I...” He sighed, frustrated with himself, “Look. What I told you is _very_ important. Don’t take me saying it lightly. I’m ready to change this world, but you’re the one that’s got to open the door.”

Stanley took a shaky breath and looked at the floor, vision swimming as he reeled under the pressure of the Narrator genuinely begging him. 

Stanley shook his head. 

This wasn’t a path he was ready to take.


End file.
